


Princess, Prisoner, Priceless

by ineedthislikeaholeinthehead



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Original Characters - Freeform, Straight Sex, Vaginal Sex, golden rain come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7140803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead/pseuds/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danae, Princess of Argos, has been imprisoned by her father, King Acrisius because it has been foretold that her son would kill the king.  But when all powerful Zeus hears of Acrisius' boasting (not even a god could reach his daughter) he feels compelled to prove the king wrong.  And have a little fun with the princess in the mean time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess, Prisoner, Priceless

**Author's Note:**

> I've been waiting (for a rejection letter) for months to post this. 
> 
> I know no one is going to read this, but I don't even care. I did RESEARCH for this, mother fuckers. RESEARCH. 
> 
> Also... straight sex. Research and straight sex. This is truly me stretching my writing chops. 
> 
> Maybe sometime, I'll write a story without relying on sex.
> 
> I mean, probably not. But anything's possible, right?

  
Danaë had a tradition of greeting the sun. From as high up in the air as her tower was, and as small as her father had designed her windows, it was very hard to do anything else with the sun. She tried to make the best of her situation. She spent her morning imaging the lives of people in the town below.  Today, she was imagining a farmer, up even before the sun to tend to animals and crops.   
  
Danaë had no idea what farmers really did.  Even if there were any  in the vicinity of her home, she wouldn’t be able to see them through the tiny slits from so far above the city.  All she knew were books and scrolls- stories about the world below.   
  
She devoured every book she could get her hands on.  Even some she shouldn’t have. The fact that she managed to get contraband into her cell was on a need to know basis, ofcourse, and spoke to her persuasive talents.    
  
As she was re-living a particularly naughty story in her head, she heard the key on her door open, and immediately unfurled her legs and sat up straight.   She held her breath and crossed her fingers, letting her hopes be dashed as soon as she saw a corner of the full skirt of one of her handmaidens, Apasia.  
  
Danaë didn’t know what she had been hoping for, all her handmaidens were women.  Pure, pliable women who she could at least manipulate enough to make her life partially liveable, even if her requests tended to make her handmaidens’ lives that much less liveable.  Danaë was not the usual prisoner, she was a princess, daughter of Acrisius, King of Argos and believer of prophecies.    
  
Danaë loved her father… sort of. His superstitions had greatly affected her social life. though.   Perhaps all women were experienced in feeling a bit trapped, but, while she had every luxury one could imagine, a prison is a prison, and she was condemned by the word of a soothsayer. A soothsayer promising that Acrisius’ death would come by way of Danaë’s womb.  
  
Hearing this news, Acrisius had built a tower so tall, no man could scale it.  He had created a guard system so intricate, only the chosen and the chaste would ever enter Danaë’s quarters.  And when he was done, he had boasted of his daughter’s internment, not even a god could reach her now.   
  
Apasia bowed and Danaë laid back down on her bed while she was brought food.  She started picking up used clothing while her mistress drank.    
  
“Apasia?”  Danaë asked while dipping her bread in wine.   
  
“Yes, my lady?”  
  
“What do you think is a good name for a king murderer?” Apasia dropped everything in her hands.   
  
“I would never think of a thing like that.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because, even the thought is treason.”  
  
“I feel my father would pardon me for these thoughts.”   
  
“I wouldn’t suggest you tell him.” She started picking up the clothing, turning away from Danaë.    
  
“Oh, Apasia, you are such a bore.”  She drank the rest of her wine, and went to pour herself another glass. “How should I ever have a son, locked away with only you to tantalize me?”   
  
Apasia walked further away from Danaë’s bed.  When she finished, she took the empty food tray from Danaë, who grabbed her by the arm.  
  
“Did you bring me anything new?”  She asked. Apasia sighed.    
  
“I just brought you something last week.”  
  
“You have no idea how boring it is up here.” Apasia pulled up her skirt, and stitched inside were scrolls, nothing any guard would have been able to detect as more than fabric.  Danaë clapped her hands in delight- as if she were a child offered honey, not a woman being handed smut.   
  
“Do you know how hard it is to get you these, Danaë?  The people I have to speak with, the things I have to offer?”   
  
“Find me a way to get them myself.  I would be happy to offer almost anything.”  Apasia handed her the scrolls and turned away. “Wait.”  She asked, then walked to one of the many bookshelves and pulled down a volume.  “I believe this one is valuable.”  She said, tucking the book into the cart of laundry Apasia now carried.  “And I no longer have need for it.”   
  
Apasia took the gift, knowing full well that there would soon come a time when Danaë would remind her this generosity, would ask her for more depraved images and words.  She would feed herself and her family now, and worry about this later.   
  
Danaë, prisoner second, princess first, spent the day looking over drawings and stories, rubbing her body in ways she knew no one ever would, and desperately wishing she was clever enough to find a way around her curse.    
  
*************************************  
  
Danaë woke up with hope in her heart at the sound of the creaking door.  Danaë always woke up with hope in her heart, and was always disappointed.  Especially when her father, Acrisius, entered. She didn’t bother to stand or bow when he walked in, and he dismissed the female guard immediately.    
  
“You should learn to greet visitors respectfully.”  He scolded.  She stared at her fingernails, a habit that displayed her boredom as well as drove her father absolutely crazy.   
  
“You should bring me some visitors worth greeting.”   
  
“I am King, anointed by the heavens to watch over you and all this land.”   
  
“And?”  
  
“There is a certain amount of respect you seem to lack for that.”   
  
“I cannot act impressed because I have no way to understand your importance.  I have no frame of reference, oh revered ruler.”  
  
 Acrisius walked around the room, dangerously close to one of Danaë’s most salacious collections.  She didn’t move a muscle, showed no apprehension in the least.  Until he pulled out a book she knew to contain filth of a very high (very expensive) quality, and open it to one of the more beautiful (or depraved, depending on your tastes) scenes.   
  
“You certainly seem to understand the relevance of some parts of human interaction.”  He said, closing the book and putting it away.   
  
“I wouldn’t have to spend my time looking at books about human interaction if you would only allow me to have some.”   
  
“We go over this every time.  You know I can’t, Danaë.”  She stood up and went to his side.   
  
“Father, please.  I don’t have to do anything.  Just...bring me company.”  
  
“Don’t you have company?  There are people in and out of here every day and night.  I imagine they are who provide you with these sorts of perversions, and fill your head with such desires.”   
  
“Peasants, Father.  Don’t I deserve conversation?  Don’t I deserve true contact?” She plead, her hand on his face in hopes it would make him understand what he was putting her through all these years, locked in a sky high dungeon.   
  
“You deserve to be a faithful daughter, and understand your place.”  He said, ripping her hand from his cheek.  He walked away, towards the door.   
  
“You know this isn’t over.”  She told him.  He exited without a word.    
  
Danaë cursed her father, she cursed her country, but most of all she cursed her fate.    
  
If there should be a prophecy about her, let it be that she would be the kingdom’s greatest queen.  Let it be that she would rule, seated in a throne of naked men.  Let it be that she would go down in history remembered for the lavish parties she would throw, affairs that would make Dyonisis blush, and fathers weep for their maiden daughters’ virtue.    
  
But of course, her father had sought out a soothsayer that would doom her to a life of eternal maidenhood. She was sure that there were countless women who would willingly give up pleasures of the flesh for the luxuries she was afforded, who would happily turn their eyes from men for all eternity if it meant being a princess, being a spoiled rotten princess, protected from the world and ensured the best of everything.    
  
Let them be princess, with a doomed womb and an empty bed.  Danaë would gladly give up every piece of unseen jewelry, every stitch of unappreciated clothing, every barrel of useless wine, just to be a barmaid pressed backwards against the dirty walls of an alehouse by the barkeep’s son.   
  
Acrisius wasn’t even being fair.  It was only getting pregnant that was his downfall. Danaë didn’t care about motherhood.  Though, after all these years, the thought of bearing a son that would kill her father seemed deliciously fair.    
  
She  was willing to be lenient, though.  She had read of countless herbs to keep pregnancy from happening, or to make sure it went away.  Besides, there was plenty to do that wasn’t anywhere near her womb. She had read or seen drawings of them all.  She couldn’t rightly suggest trying to explain those details to a prudish king.  The results were not good.    
  
She looked once more at the closed door, her pleas falling again on deaf ears, her father abandoning her once more, and she fell back on her bed.  There was no one to hide from, so she let herself cry until she fell asleep.   
  
*************************************  
  
When she woke up in the morning, the girl with breakfast was not Apasia.  Danaë didn’t recognize her, and she was in need of nothing contraband, so she simply ignored her as she made quick work of the mess Danaë had managed to make through the last 12 hours. The girl stopped at the window for too long.   
  
“What is it?”  Danaë asked from her perch on the bed.    
  
“I..I mean no offense in asking you, Princess, but were you trying to test my honesty?”  She asked.  
  
“What have you found?”  The girl put down the pile of clothes in her arms and picked up something on the floor.   
  
“Here, my lady.”  She said, handing Danaë the confusing object.  She held it in her palm so they could examine it together.  It was a large piece of what looked like gold.  But it wasn’t a medallion.  It almost looked like melted ice, a gigantic rain drop frozen in time. “I thought you had hidden it, to see if I would steal it.”    
  
“I don’t know what it is.”  Danaë  said.  “But you can have it if you have any use for it.” She started to hand over a year’s worth of food in gold to the girl.  “Of course, when I need something from you, you’ll have to be at the ready.”  She said.  The girl nodded and held out her hand.   Danaë was about to drop the gold, but held it tighter instead.  “If we’re going to have an understanding, we should know each other’s name.  I’m Danaë, so never call me princess again.”  
  
“My apologies Pr- Danaë.”  
  
“Your name, girl?”  She swallowed.  Something about this made her uneasy, like she was dealing with a devil’s bargain.  But she felt too far in, so she pushed through the nerves.   
  
“Elpis.”  She said.  “I am Elpis.”  Danaë smiled, shook her hand, and whey they parted, the gold was in Elpis’ hand.  
  
Danaë went back to her bed while Elpis worked.  She might have bought a favor, but she had not bought a friend, so Elpis made quick work of her chores and exited graciously, happily depositing the princess’ clothing and dishes to be cleaned and happily going out to explore, her newfound wealth burning a hole in her pocket.  Before she’d even left the princess’ tower, she was accosted.   
  
“You.  Girl.”  She heard someone call.  It was in her direction, but of course it wasn’t for Elpis.  No one ever needed Elpis.  “You. Elpis.”  She heard a man say.  And she turned around, wondering who knew her name.    
  
The man standing in the shade cast by the princess’ tower was tall.  Elpis didn’t know if she had ever seen a man so tall.  And he was broad shouldered and strong.  He was built like a soldier, only cleaner.  And he was beautiful.  More beautiful than any other man Elpis had ever seen.  How did he know her name?  
  
“Elpis.”  He said again, and on his lips it sounded like the most beautiful note of the most beautiful song in the world.   
  
“Yes, my lord.”   He smiled, as if he was about to laugh, then shook the thought away.   
  
“I am not your lord, am I?”  He asked.   
  
“I only meant to show my respect.”  
  
“I have no need for your respect.”   
  
“Do you have need for something else?”  She asked.  He smiled again.  He smiled at her and her knees went weak and he didn’t have to say a word, she knew what he was thinking of. He could have her in an instant. She would give in to him willingly.  Oh, she would give him anything if he simply asked.  He shook his laughter away again.  No time to get distracted.   
  
“That gold in your hand.”  He said.  She looked down.  She should have known this was too good to be true.  Perhaps this was a trick from Danaë?  This beautiful man must work for her, and once he had the gold, she would have both Elpis’ promise and the gold back in her posession.  She handed it to him and he snatched it up like a long lost emblem.  He touched her chin.   
  
“Cheer up, little girl.”  He said, pulling out a bag of coins and placing it in her hands.  “I think you’ll find this has been a very fair trade.”  And with that, he left Elpis to discover that she was now far richer than the gold would have made her.   
  
He walked around Danaë’s tower, leaned on the cold wall, and pulled out the piece of gold.  He checked to ensure he had no audience, though he’d simply get rid of anyone who saw so the gesture was useless.  When he knew he was alone, he took the gold, and pushed it into the palm of his hand, until it disappeared and all that was left was his hand, glowing gold.   
  
*************************************  
Danaë heard laughter as she woke up.  Danaë didn’t particularly enjoy laughter.  There was very little that was funny in her life.  She noticed the low light as she sat up.  It must still be evening.  The laughter came again, and she scanned the room.  Empty, save her lonesome self.  At this time of night, even the guards were asleep.  Once again, where was the noise coming from?  
  
Before she had figured it out, the ceiling creaked.  Like there was someone on it.  But that was impossible.  No one could scale these walls, Acrisius had ensured it, checking time and again.  Danaë had had dreams of the sounds of footsteps on her roof, but only birds had dared to make them.   The ceiling continued to creak, and these were no footsteps of birds.    
  
She stood, head towards the sky,  to inspect the madness that had apparently taken over her life, and as soon as she was out from under the protection of her bed’s canopy, it started to rain. Rain. In her bedroom.  Danaë had never witnessed rain in her life, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t meant to be made of gold.  Why would gold be so valuable if it rained from the sky?   
  
Having no other recourse, she climbed back under the cover of her canopy and waited for the storm to pass.  When it did, she had long grown bored of the spectacle, and was pages into a story about a stableboy and a kitchen maid acting out the passions of their forbidden love, so she missed the most incredible transformation, every drop of gold flowing towards a large pool.  It shuddered and heaved until the mass grew high, and once it reached the appropriate height, opened then folded until the shape was recognizably human.  In an instant, the gold hue gave way to tight, tan skin, and Danaë finally looked up to see a man more beautiful than even her day dreams could have imagined.  She hadn’t really seen many men to compare, outside of her books and her father (who was nothing to look at, on top of being nothing to listen to.) This man was the sort of thing frustrated dreams were made of.   
  
Tall.  Taller than she imagined a man could be.  Broad shouldered, with clean lines of muscle, not bulging like the soldiers whose stories she had grown tired of reading long ago, but defined nonetheless.  His face was what royalty was meant to look like.  It was the face that painters painted and  sculptors sculpted, complete lies for the nobility they were supposed to represent, the stuff of dreams.    
  
His hair was thick and black and his eyes were dark and mysterious.  She didn’t dare stare at his lips, for fear she would simply throw herself at him just to experience their taste.    
  
He walked toward her, a smile on his face that seemed less than pure.  She gave him the same smile back.  Before sitting on the bed, he bent down, confusing Danaë, who already had no qualms with what this was going to be.   When he popped back up again, he held a single drop of gold in his palm, and quickly smacked it against the back of his neck.  It instantly melted into his skin.  She hadn’t noticed anything missing from him, but now that he was complete, he was even more perfect.    
  
“That’s an impressive trick.”  She told him.   
  
“I’m very impressive.”  He responded.    
  
“Oh?”  She said, calm and collected, or at least trying to appear that way.   
  
“I’ve scaled your walls, haven’t I?”   
  
“And why have you bothered?”   
  
“To see for my eyes if the Princess was as beautiful as the rumors said.” Danaë turned around on her bed, moving closer to where the beautiful stranger stood. She looked up at him, knowing full well she was as beautiful as any rumors might have said.   
  
“A man made of gold, who can scale walls even the gods weren’t meant to see, I have a feeling that man could see me any time he wanted.” She told him.  He finally sat down next to her on the bed.  She sat up, so as to discourage herself from laying her head in his lap.  He took one of his long, slender fingers and held her chin with it.  A devious smile accompanied his laugh.    
  
“And what if I wanted to do more than just see you?”  It was Danaë’s turn for a devious smile.   
  
“Then you should probably start by kissing me.”  She said, and he pulled her close and placed his lips on hers.    
  
All the stories in all the world could not have prepared her for this.  She immediately felt her body melting into his arms, which instantly wrapped around her. He moved his lips from hers, trailing kisses down the soft skin of her cheek and neck.  His arms slowly unraveled from her body so that his fingertips could glide down her arms, finding their way to her sides.   
  
He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around his neck, awestruck by the feeling of his muscles, so powerful right under his skin.  He guided her down on the bed, lips and arms and stomachs touching all the way.  Danaë whined as he took his body away and sat back up. He hushed her, one hand on her ankle, his other, with fingers snapping, the light in the room burned brighter.    
  
He took one more look at her, and her night clothes were off.  Not taken off, completely gone without the slightest effort.  She smiled and he made his disappeared as well. She didn’t understand his magic and she didn’t care.  All she cared about at that moment was staring.    
  
The beauty of his physique had been obvious even shrouded in the linens that had draped it, but now he stood before her completely free, more glorious than she had ever imagined a man could be.  The broad shoulders she had admired with sculpted muscles spread into toned biceps, triceps, forearms, and pectorals were almost too beautiful to take in.  His thighs were tight and bulging, but it was physically impossible for Danaë to give them the attention they truly deserved, because the bulge that held her attention was looming between them.  She swallowed hard as she marveled at the length of him, hard and long and so exotic.  She had pictures in her room, pictures in her head, but in person it was almost too much to take in.   
  
And then, it was exactly what she needed to take in.  She reached for him and he dodged, shot her that devilish smile again.  He knew how much she wanted him.  He dared to think he would make a princess work for it.    
  
But she did.  Chances like this didn’t come around every day.  Erebus, they didn’t come around any day for Danaë, and she would not let an experience like this be lost over something as simple as her pride.  He stood before her, and she kneeled in front of him, looking up at him with saucer eyes, then in front of her where his member waited for her action.    
  
She started by wrapping her fingers around his girth, shocked at how warm he was, hoping her fingers weren’t too cold.  He didn’t seem impressed as she found her way around him.   This wasn’t the main attraction, she knew, but she allowed herself the simple pleasure of holding him in her hand, feeling him throbbing against her palm for a moment before finally finding her courage and placing her lips around the tip of his prick.    
  
He filled her mouth easily, but a short time later, he pulled out and looked down at her, his eyes full of fire.  She bit down on her bottom lip, still feeling the burn of his hair on her face, and he moved her to the bed.    
  
That is to say, he pointed, and she laid down as if it were a commandment from on high. This was a man made of gold and power, it very well may be that it was a commandment from on high.  She didn’t care.  He could be a trickster just passing through, he was here, and he was beautiful, and for at least the next few minutes, he was going to be hers.   
  
He climbed on the bed and she braced herself.  The maids that had relented and begrudgingly told Danaë of their bedrooms had all said sex brought more pain than pleasure.  So deprived was Danaë of any sort of physical attention, she was more than willing to accept a little pain for the trade off it would hopefully bring.  She held her breath as he moved his body on top of her.  She was not a coward, but she closed her eyes while she waited for the worst of it to start.    
  
But it didn’t.  Instead of pain, instead of tearing or blood or anything that the ladies and the books had warned her about, her body fell open like a flower. She reopened her eyes, and he was kneeling below her, his head between her legs, doing something she had never in her wildest dreams thought she would have the chance to experience. She shifted, his hand swiftly moved to hold her down by the stomach.  He looked up, eyes still shining like the molten gold they were.    
  
“You’ll allow me this preparation.”  He said.  It wasn’t a question.  It wasn’t a plea.  It was a demand, one that Danaë happily complied with.  His tongue moved down her wet lips, then back up again.  He took two long fingers, slowly slipping them inside, biding their time until he felt her constricted breath.  He crooked his fingers in exactly the right spot, sending her tumbling into something indescribable. A feeling, but an emotion, too. Like the first burst of air after holding your breath for too long, like the sun on your arms on the first day of spring.  She had no other words for what this felt like: freedom.  A power that no one knew she had lying inside her.  A freedom no one could take away.   
  
He pulled his head from between her legs and looked up at her, a writhing mess of fulfilled passion. Yet, he could sense her hunger for more.  She wanted so much more.  He wiped the stubble on his chin as he moved back onto the bed. She let him kiss her- how could she not after such a performance?  He pulled her to his side and whispered in her ear.   
  
“You taste better than Ambrosia, my princess.”  There was something in his voice that made her think he actually knew.    
  
“Imagine how good I feel.”  His hand slid across her stomach as he looked at her.    
  
“Do I need to imagine?”   
  
“You only need to take.”  She said.    
  
And with that, he did, pulling her into his arms, gently guiding her onto his lap, holding both of her hips, his hands warm and welcoming just like his prick.  She moaned as it split her and as she slid down his girth.  When she had him fully inside, she pressed her lips against his with a fiery passion.   
  
Those welcoming hands of his quickly transformed into grasping fists, holding steady as she rocked against him, the stretch and the burn of him delicious, exciting, addicting.  Her arms around his neck, her breast against his chest, she wanted to take in all of him, every last golden drop, and memorize this magical stranger for eternity.    
  
There was no book, no scroll, that would ever compare to the story she was living as she rode them into mutual ecstasy.    
  
“Oh, Zeus, save me!”  She screamed.  He looked up at her.   
  
“From what?”   
  
“From this.  From you. From everything”  She said, pressing him deeper into the bed, her tiny fingers leaving impressions on his skin for mere milliseconds before his chest returned to it’s olive brown.   
  
“I’m afraid I can’t help you.”  He told her, and she didn’t want to talk any more, so she pressed his teasing lips against hers, moaning through her climax and feeling a new warmth, the tell tale sign of his own pleasure released.   
  
When it was completely over, Danaë became quickly aware of the stretch he had given her body, and she dismounted as politely as possible, falling on her back beside her beautiful stranger.  He turned towards her and smiled.  His lips not holding any mischief.  He kissed her, the kiss of a man well satisfied.  
  
With a flash, they were both dressed again. He sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.  Danaë moved closer, touched his shoulder and pressed her chest to his back.   
  
“You’re leaving me now, aren’t you?”  She said.   
  
“You know I must.”   
  
“I do.”   
  
“You are a very smart princess, Danaë.”   
  
“Is that why you came to me?”  
  
“Your father built a barrier and thought no one could penetrate it.”   
  
“But you did.”   
  
“Only to see what was worth protecting.”  He told her.   
  
“And was he right?” She asked. He stood and she followed. In the silence between them, he turned and placed his hand on her abdomen.  Danaë had never felt warmer, more full of life.   
  
“He was very right.” He told her.  She smiled back at him.   
  
“Will I see you again, beautiful stranger?”  She asked as she saw his skin begin to turn golden.  He turned back and took another look at her.    
  
He had thought her a prize, but she was not that.  Princess first, Prisoner second, Priceless always.  He didn’t have an answer for her.   
  
“Perhaps one day, you’ll call on Zeus and I will come.”  He said, and with that, he was gone in a golden smoke, leaving only memories and an unbelievable name on Danaë’s lips.    
  
*************************************  
The next day, Danaë was hoping that Elpis would be back.  She wanted to tell someone her story and Elpis was the only one who would believe her.  She had taken the gold, she was sure to believe her.    
  
Unfortunately for Danaë,  Apasia greeted her in her normal curt manner and it was obvious from her first steps in the room that she was in no mood for stories.  She was probably still angry about needing to procure contraband for her, something she should have accepted as part of her job long ago.   
  
“Apasia.”  Danaë asked.   
  
“Yes, my lady?”   
  
“Do you know what would be a good name for the murderer of a king?”  
  
“You have already heard me say I don’t.”    
  
“Perseus.”  There was a night dress on the far side of the room that Apasia was grateful for, knowing that it meant she could get further away from Danaë.  It was one thing for a princess to plot treason.  It was a completely different thing to be the commoner who heard it.    
  
“It has a sort of ring to it, doesn’t it?” Danaë asked, mostly to herself.  “Perseus, slayer of kings.”  Apasia looked over to her charge, wondering at what point she should call a doctor to check for madness. “Perseus, bane of Acrisius.”    
  
Apasia pulled together all Danaë’s linens and bowed, bidding the princess adieu as quickly as possible.    
  
Danaë giggled, fell back onto her bed, and smiled to herself.   
  
“Perseus, son of Zeus.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so... just FYI, the story of Danae is really fucking cool. She gets impregnated by Zeus, her father finds out and condemns her to the sea, Zeus (feeling partially to blame) asks Poseidon to you know... not kill them, they wash ashore and this fisherman Dictys finds them and basically helps raise Perseus (her son) and protect Danae. Then his brother, King Polydectes (More like PolyDICKtes, amirite?) gets all "Marry me or else, Danae." And Perseus (who's kinda a momma's boy) is like "Get the fuck away from my mom." Which makes sense- who'd bother fucking a king when you've boned with a golden god? But PolyDICKtes won't let up, so he basically commands Perseus to get him the head of Medusa, which he does. So, he brings it back, flips off PolyDICKtes and takes his mom to the city of Larissa, and while he's there he's playing a game and accidentally throws a discus at his grandfather's head, killing him and fulfilling the prophecy.
> 
> But instead of writing about any of that, I wrote about Zeus getting his golden nuggets off. 
> 
> Google everyone I've just talked about though, mythology is pretty cool. 
> 
> I can't wait to find an even more obscure fandom to contribute to.


End file.
